Graduates of Olympus
by Ricorum Scaevola
Summary: In the archives of Camp Jupiter, there are the records of many past heroes and their daring exploits. This is one story: three heroes and their desperate fight against an invading army and its near-immortal leader. Set before The Lightning Thief. Almost completely OC. Roman Themed. OCs are mine, but everything else is Riordan's.
1. Chapter 1

Graduates of Olympus

_In the archives of Camp Jupiter, there are the records of many past heroes and their daring exploits. These records are kept so that their stories might be remembered and honored, as is fitting for heroes of New Rome. This is one such story: three heroes and their desperate fight against an invading army and its near-immortal leader. Written after the fact by all three of the heroes, whose names shall go down in the annals of New Rome. From their writing, it appeared as though they were writing not only for the benefit of the Legion, but for normal mortals as well. Hence, some things that are obvious to a Legionnaire are defined at length, such as the existence of the Gods and so forth._

Set an unspecified time before _The Lightning Thief._

Original characters are mine, but the setting, situation and interpretations of Classical Mythology belong to Rick Riordan. As with all fanfiction, I'm just playing in someone else's sandbox.

Chapter 1: Chris

* * *

So a few days ago, life pretty much stunk.

How so? Well, try to imagine what I just went through, though after you hear my story, I don't think you'll be able to.

First off, you have to imagine that one of your parents is a God.

I'm not kidding. A God. Specifically, a Roman God.

Still with me? I'd be surprised if you were. Basically, the Roman Gods are real. All the stories you hear about Jupiter, Cupid, Venus, Mars, and all the others? All real. The stories about their kids, the Greek and Roman Heroes? Also all real.

You don't have to believe me if you don't want to. Heck, sometimes (like right now) I don't want to either. Technically speaking, for a full mortal like you, not believing is actually safer. You know the saying, "Ignorance is bliss"? Well, for you it is. Me, I'm not so lucky. Since I'm the child of a Roman God, I don't get that option.

On the slightly plus side, since I'm a Demigod (half god, half human, keep up with the lingo), I come better equipped than normal humans to deal with this kind of stuff.

"What stuff?" you might ask.

Well, what did Heroes in the old stories spend all their time doing?

That's right; fighting monsters. Which are also very real and very alive. In fact, it's one specific monster which is the reason my life sucks right now.

…But I guess I should go back a little. Just take it from me that there the Gods are real, they have children, I'm one of them, and fighting monsters is pretty much my life. OK?

My name is Chris. I'm nineteen years old. My father is Apollo, God of Archery, Light, Prophecy, Music, Healing and so forth. I'm above average height, lean and good looking (or so I've been told). Being Apollo's son, I've… I guess you would say inherited some of his gifts. I'm a pretty great archer (but I prefer to use a sword; don't judge me), I get minor premonitions about the future (usually just a few seconds, so betting is a no-go) and I can lay down a pretty mean curse when I want (not like a "! $ ^#*$# #%" curse, more like a "May your shoelaces always trip you when you're walking down the stairs", or a "may your pants forever smell like meat whenever a dog is nearby" kind of curse). What I excel at, though, is healing. Be it cuts, burns, bones or whatever, I can help with almost any infirmity or curse. If monsters ever stop bugging me for long enough, I'm going to medical school. My claim to fame? I once cured a kid of a poisoned knife so powerfully that the poison rebounded out of him and killed the monster that had stabbed the kid in the first place.

Anyway, this story isn't just about me. Toe-to-toe, most heroes, even lucky ones like me with an abundance of gifts (note here that "lucky" is relative; being normal would be best, but in lieu of that, it's nice to have some power to back you up), can't stand up to many of the monsters that come at us on a regular basis. What really tips the odds in the heroes favor is teamwork. Demigods, as a general rule, work in groups of three. Three's a pretty symbolic number for us in the mythology world. Three Fates, three Olympian Brothers, three levels in the Underworld, blah blah blah, so on, so forth, you get the idea. Also, the more Demigods in an area, the more monsters are attracted to our scent (we don't smell _bad_, just…appetizing to monsters), so three is a good balance between strength and stealth.

My first teammate is actually my sister. Well, I should say half-sister is more accurate, but we're close enough that we don't usually care to get specific. Her dad's also Apollo, but she has a different mom than me (the Gods still get around; that part of the old stories hasn't changed).

Anyway, her name is Willow, which suits her. She's what you would imagine as a daughter of Apollo: blond (like me; it's a pretty common Apollo trait), good looking (again, what I've been told; she's my **sister**) and slim, but strong enough to pull back on her longbow. She's one of the best archers I've ever seen, and I spend most my time around supernaturally enhanced fighters. You know those scenes in _Lord of the Rings _where Legolas is shooting two or three arrows at a time? Compared to Willow, Legolas is a noob. Also cooler than Legolas' are her arrows, which are dipped in Hydra blood, making a single scratch lethal; not that she misses much anyway. The arrows are also enchanted to return to her quiver unless they're broken, making her basically a human machine gun when she fights. She also plays a mean game of darts (she also bowls a good game, but I'm not sure if that has anything to do with her Godly heritage).

The final member of our team is Cor, my unofficial second in command. It's short for Cornelius, but don't call him that. Not because he'll do something horrible to you; he just likes Cor better. He's a year older than Willow and I, and he's a son of Vulcan, God of Smiths and Fire (not logic or pointy ears). He's tall, blond (not regularly a Vulcan thing, but whatever), with slightly under-average looks (which is a Vulcan thing) but very ripped (which I would **swear** is a Vulcan thing). He's not massively built; compared to some of his siblings he even looks on the skinny side, but he's got a martial artist's physique, which makes sense, because that's what he is. He's been trained with weapons like the rest of us, but his preferred combat style is hand-to-hand with a pair of cestus (think spiky brass knuckles that go all the way up to the elbow). Where he really shines, though, is his firepower. Literally, firepower; like shooting fireballs at people and setting his feet on fire before kicking you. It's a pretty dangerous gift, but I wouldn't have anyone else by my side in a fight. He also has a serious crush on Willow, but is too shy to do anything about it, poor guy.

Anyway, as individuals we're strong, but we've been working together since we were pre-teens, so our teamwork has been honed so sharp you could shave with it (figuratively, of course). We met up when we were young, we went on a quest together, and we've been inseparable ever since. Together we've survived some of the worst that Mythology could throw at us (and believe me, it can get pretty creative). We've even survived into adulthood, which is a pretty impressive feat for a Demigod. In fact, up until this quest I'm going to relate, I almost thought we were untouchable. How wrong I was.

* * *

We were in the desert, southwest United States. I don't know where exactly, and even if I did it probably wouldn't matter much. Normal space and time don't follow the same rules in areas of magic or monsters.

Our camp had received word of a group of monsters massing out in the middle of nowhere, so our Praetors (leaders of the camp) decided to send out a scouting group to determine what should be done. I was assigned to go, and got my pick of two companions to go with me. Naturally I picked my teammates, and we were off. Travel to the desert, find the monsters, if possible kill the monsters and go home. Easy (pfft, yeah right).

About two weeks later…

"Cor! Are you sure this is the way back to Camp Jupiter?" Willow called from the back of the line. In the front, Cor simply shrugged and kept walking. In between them, I silently wished for the hundredth time that we had stopped and asked for directions at the donut shop three days ago. Almost a week of wandering the desert and there wasn't anything. We'd decided a few days ago that there was no point in continuing the search and we might as well head back to Camp. With clear directions, and the Sun pointing us in the right direction, we definitely weren't lost.

"Hey! Aren't those our footprints up ahead?"

Crud.

We hurried forward to examine the offending tracks in the sand. Sure enough, they were our footprints, with each indent on top of the other to make it look like a single traveler instead of three.

I wiped the some sweat off my face Even though we had started out in the predawn that morning, the desert was already heating up to uncomfortable temperatures. "This is not reasonable. We've been traveling a straight line west. The sun's always in the right direction, and we check our location against the stars every night! We shouldn't be getting turned around like this!"

Cor crouched down next to the footprints and didn't say anything. He didn't need to; we'd been together long enough I could tell what was on his mind. "You think something's messing with us out here?" I asked him.

Cor straightened up. "Yes," he said. "We've been careful. We wouldn't mess something like this up normally; ergo, something is manipulating us".

"But that's almost impossible," Willow had come up from our rear to get a closer look at the prints. "We haven't seen a trace of anything sinister out here; not since the fire breathing horse stampede right as we left camp".

"That was still fun, by the way," Cor interjected before I could respond.

"First, we've been over this; it was still only fun for you, 'Sir Fireproof'"; I ignored Willow's snicker from behind my back. "Secondly, Willow is right. We haven't found hide or hair of anything, monstrous or otherwise, out here. Willow hasn't seen it, I haven't sensed it, and you, dear friend, haven't tripped over it".

"That just means it doesn't want us to find it; and I resent that last remark, by the way".

"You know, Cor, there is such a thing as being paranoid, even for us".

"It's not paranoia if something's actually out to get you".

"Fine." I performed an elaborate, if sarcastic, bow at Cor. "You're eloquent remarks have convinced…" I stopped as a flicker passed over my gaze. I stopped immediately and closed my eyes, holding my hands up for silence. Cor had been about to retort, but was immediately silent, all joking over.

How do I explain a premonition to someone? Imagine a moment of Déjà-vu, where you get the sensation that something has happened before. Well, for me, it's like a reverse of that. I get the sensation, not that I've done something before, but that I'm about to do something again. Usually images accompany the feelings, which is why I usually close my eyes; seeing the future is a headache enough without having to see it superimposed over the present.

Confusing, I know, but there's not an easy way to describe what happens when the universe bends around you and you can see the curvature of time and destiny itself.

Anyway, what passed was a quick flurry of images. In my mind's eye, I saw our group, exactly as it was in the present. The scene blurred, and then zoomed out. As more of the desert became visible, I spotted, behind some rock outcroppings, a group of monsters of an unidentified species watching us. The scene shifted back to us, now walking toward the outcropping. The monsters swarmed out and attacked our group, quickly cutting us all down.

Great. Another death forecast. Like I don't already get enough of them.

I opened my eyes. The good thing about my premonitions was that the more dangerous the event, the longer I had before it actually happened. So, while I normally couldn't tell what chariot would win in a race, I could see surprise birthday parties from a mile away (if you knew some of the things that happen at my birthday parties…). For this one, I could tell I had fifteen or twenty minutes.

"Cor. You win. Ambush less than half an hour out," I rubbed more sweat off my forehead as I tried to remember the specifics of the monsters. "Some kind of snake women things wielding swords. They don't look too tough, but they kill us."

Cor and Willow nodded, like getting killed was a regular occurrence. This should tell you how messed up our lives are.

"So, fearless leader?" Willow had shifted her bow so that, while it still looked securely strapped to her back, all she had to do was shrug and it would be in her hand. "Which direction to our doom?"

I pondered for just a moment. On one hand, we could just keep walking, avoiding the ambush all together. However, the monsters would probably just set up another one, and while my precognition was usually reliable, it wasn't perfect. We might not get a warning the next time around.

On the other hand, we would be walking directly into a planned ambush. True, we had the major advantage of being ready for it, but no sane person walks into certain danger if they can help it.

My next decision should clear all doubt about my mental stability.

"That way," I made sure my sword and knives were clear for drawing and started towards the impending ambush. "Doom ahoy".

See why my life stinks?


	2. Chapter 2

Graduates of Olympus

_In the archives of Camp Jupiter, there are the records of many past heroes and their daring exploits. These records are kept so that their stories might be remembered and honored, as is fitting for heroes of New Rome. This is one such story: three heroes and their desperate fight against an invading army and its near-immortal leader. Written after the fact by all three of the heroes, whose names shall go down in the annals of New Rome. From their writing, it appeared as though they were writing not only for the benefit of the Legion, but for normal mortals as well. Hence, some things that are obvious to a Legionnaire are defined at length, such as the existence of the Gods and so forth._

Set an unspecified time before _The Lightning Thief._

Original characters are mine, but the setting, situation and most of the interpretations of Classical Mythology belong to Rick Riordan. As with all fanfiction, I'm just playing in someone else's sandbox.

Chapter 2: Willow

* * *

To start off, I have to make some clarifications. First, my brother is prone to overdramatize. It's not really all his fault, since our dad is the God of the Arts, but seriously, listening to Chris go on and on makes you think his entire life is some sort of tragedy. Yes, we've had some hard times, especially the last couple days, but come on! Our parents are Gods! We kill monsters! Life is pretty awesome, all in all.

Secondly, let me set the record straight: despite all my brother's doom and gloom in the last chapter, this story has a happy ending.

Well, mostly happy.

Well, I guess a lot of bad things happen, in retrospect, but it ends alright.

Ok?

So let me see where my brother left off…

Seriously? He gave you a cliffhanger? My brother is such a drama king.

Ok, so we were lost in the desert, heading towards a certain ambush. I'll pick up there.

We tromped forward, following our own trail of footprints that had somehow been moved around on us when we weren't paying attention. Cor led the group, with Chris right behind and me taking up the rear. We always walk through areas that leave footprints in single file, to disguise the number of our group in case we're followed (random fact. You're welcome).

We followed this path for about twenty minutes, until we were right in the middle of the rock formations that Chris had described to us. Our footprints stopped there.

In the silence, Chris sighed overdramatically and started counting.

"Five, four, three…"

At 'two', we were ambushed, which was pretty good timing considering he had almost half an hour to work with. With a sound that was a mix of a hiss and scream, about two dozen monsters sprang out of concealment and slithered towards us. They were indeed some kind of snake women, with normal looking torsos but two snakelike tails instead of legs. They all wielded swords and long shields. No doubt, they expected us to react with surprise and alarm, which would give them enough time to get within striking distance and quickly finish us. I'm pleased to say we didn't accommodate them. With a quick shrug, my bow was in my hand and an arrow nocked and aimed.

I was in pretty high spirits. First, we were in a fight, and I love getting into fights with monsters. I always get such a good feeling from killing them. My brother tells me it's an endorphin rush, which I shouldn't get addicted to; I tell him to be quiet and stop being such a downer.

And no, I don't recklessly rush into danger like some sort of adrenaline junkie. I'm just very aware of our abilities as a team.

First off, our group has been training together for _years_. We know the ins and outs of every strategy, every tactic and every plan out there. We've worked flawlessly together in tons of dangerous situations and we're all well aware of our strengths and weaknesses.

Take me, for instance. With all humility, my skills with my bow are Godlike. I should know; I've been around plenty of Gods. I've got the eyesight to see a fly at a hundred Roman Paces, and the skill to take its wings off from the same distance. At a few yards, putting an arrow into the head of the lead attacking monster was cakewalk. I probably could have done it blindfolded. I laughed out loud as I nocked and fired again, putting another creature down with an arrow to the head.

Chris, for a son of Apollo, is a little strange in that he doesn't use a bow too often. I don't know why, but he prefers a sword and knife combination. That said, he still puts his gifts to good use. When he fights, sometimes I swear his eyes **are** closed as he pays more attention to the future than the present. He moved through the monsters, literally a step ahead of them, reacting to the monsters movements before the monsters actually moved. When my brother fights, he looks like a dancer, moving to the beat of a song only he can hear.

On my other side, Cor is a sight to watch. He moves less gracefully than Chris, but he makes up for it in raw power. As muscled as he is, he's still far faster and stronger than he looks, and each time he punches or kicks it seems like a mini-shockwave pounds the air. He fights like a mix between Bruce Lee and a boxer, blocking blows on his cestus before blurring forward and pounding fist or foot shaped holes in his opponents. Add to the fact that he's usually on fire and it's a pretty spectacular sight to see. Most monsters only ever see it once. We caught each other's eyes and he grinned at me; he's not as vocal about it as me, but he enjoys fights nearly as much as I do.

Unfortunately for my "endorphin rush", the fight was over pretty quickly. Without Chris's warning we definitely would have been in trouble, but with ample time to prepare, we were unbeatable. The last few monsters tried to flee, but I caught them with arrows to the necks as they turned to run, and they shrieked in pain as they exploded into dust (By the way, that's what monsters do when they die; turn to dust while their essence returns to Tartarus, in the Underworld, to be reborn at a later date. Chris says it makes fighting them kind of lame, because no matter how many times you kill something, eventually it will return. I say it's convenient, because then we can kill it _again_).

As I surveyed the remains of the battle, I saw one monster had survived the fight. Currently it was pressed up against a rock wall, Chris's sword and knife on either side of its neck.

"_Issss enough! Thissss one sssurrenderssss!" _The snake woman spoke with hisses are well. I could see a forked tongue flick out whenever it tried to pronounce an 's'.

Chris's sword pressed in harder, cutting off whatever the monster was going to say. "Don't talk. I'm going to ask you a question. You will answer it. Make any sudden moves and I'll know before you do". Chris turned to us and said in an offhand manner, "Do you think this is part of the group we were sent out here for? I, for one, think yes".

"Yeah," I responded simply. Like I said, Drama King. It's like he's performing for an invisible audience.

Chris turned back to the monster, who was trying to breathe without moving its neck too much. "Ok, here's the question: Are you part of a larger group, and if so, where is this group? You can now speak". He eased his blades away from its neck a fraction of an inch.

"_Ssss true. Ussss isssss not alone. We have whole army over ridge for invasssssion." _The monster's face took on an expression of pleasure. "_Issss too many for you to win! Our leader issss immortal! All heroesssss will die!" _The creature's laughter was cut off as I grabbed Chris's arm and sliced the monster's head off with a clean sweep of his sword. The monster dissolved into dust, but its hissing laughter echoed around us. We all looked at each other.

"Well," I said, trying to maintain the cheerful attitude I had had during the battle. "At least we're not lost anymore".

* * *

I crept over the ridge and looked at the mass of monsters in the camp below us.

We were in serious trouble. There were hundreds of monsters in the camp below us, of all different varieties. I saw some familiar faces, like more of the snake women we had just fought, but some of the monsters were new to me, which was a little unnerving, since I had been fighting monsters for a while. The camp itself, however, didn't look like a normal fort for a marching army. It looked far more permanent, with the dominant feature being the huge, amphitheater-like structure in the middle of the camp.

Cor sidled up next to me. From this distance, you could always feel heat emanating off of him, which had been really nice during the cold desert nights of the past weeks. Sometimes I ended up sleeping a little closer to his bedroll than was strictly necessary, but hey; he's warm, both physically and personally. Looks aren't everything; he has a wonderful personality and he's an incredible fighter and…

You know what? This is being recorded for all history. You don't need to hear every defining reason why I like Cor. Back to the action.

Cor whispered in my ear. "What can you tell about the Amphitheater in the middle? It looks permanent".

So he had noticed too. Give him a point for perception. I looked harder at the amphitheater, and it seemed to zoom in my sight, like a more advanced sniper scope. Yeah, it's a handy gift.

"Eew," I drew back, repulsed at the sight. "It's made of skulls all cemented together".

Cor made a face as he turned and waved Chris up to where they were on the ridge. "That's gross. Thanks for that. What I meant was, does it look portable or anything?"

I took another close look, but it only confirmed my suspicions. "No, it's not going anywhere. Actually, I'm not sure any of the camp looks like it can be disassembled."

"So it's not a war camp, which means our prisoner was lying." Chris crept up and settled on my other side. "If it's not an army, what is it doing here?"

I simply shrugged and kept looking. As it was, that many monsters were definitely a threat to Camp Jupiter's safety, even if it wasn't an invasion army. I was about so suggest we back up and confer from a safer distance when Chris suddenly stiffened beside me. I looked over as he closed his eyes and I recognized him getting a premonition.

I turned to Cor quickly. "Get ready; something's about to go down".

"No time," Chris muttered through clenched teeth. "Happening now; get clear!"

Cor and I whirled around, but it was too late. As silent as ghosts, we had been surrounded from the rear. More snake women held bows all aimed at us, and several huge monsters I recognized as Laistrygonian Giants backed them up with large clubs. Our odds didn't look good.

One of the snake women…stepped…forward. "_Ssssurrender, and you're livessss will be ssspared. Our Leader hassss need of you."_

I exchanged an incredulous look with Cor. If a monster wants to spare a Demigod, it's usually because they have something more painful than immediate death planned for them.

I examined the odds again. Yeah, we were definitely in trouble. I could intercept arrows with my own, but I was leery about getting all of them; it only took one to kill you. I knew Cor could, on a good day, catch or deflect arrows, but that wasn't a given either. If he could get in close he could definitely beat the giants, but me covering him would leave me and Chris open…

See? I'm not reckless. I'm well aware of our group's limits. Reckless Demigods don't make it to adulthood like we have.

I was surprised by a sound of metal hitting rocks behind me. Chris had dropped his sword to the ground in front of him. In his eyes, I could see that he had come to the same conclusion as me; probable death later was better than certain death now. With a growl of frustration, I set my bow on the ground in front of me. To my left, Cor unbuckled his cestus and also dropped them to the ground.

The monster that had previously spoken seemed a bit taken aback by this. I guess Demigods didn't usually surrender to it. It hissed to itself for a moment before motioning three of the giants forward to take us into custody. The giants bound our hands with rope, attached a lead, and jerked us roughly to follow them down the slope towards the camp. As we walked to follow, I made a mental note of which of the snake women had picked our weapons off the ground behind us. These things, whatever they were, were going to get it as soon as I could get the odds back in my favor.

The path to the central amphitheater had been cleared of monsters as we walked through the camp. As we were half marched, half dragged through the camp, I noticed something weird going on with the geography. We were definitely still in a desert, but the heat started to really increase, and the packed mix of rock, sand and dirt under our feet turned into pure sand that made us stumble. Instead of being in a desert in the Southwest United States, it looked more like pictures of the Sahara or somewhere like that.

As we approached the amphitheater, I got another good look at its menacing structure. It was, definitely, constructed from skulls, and not all of them were human. On the top level of the structure, large banners were strung up, emblazoned with the symbol of a Trident.

Neptune. Most Romans didn't really like him, and I was no exception, but for all the lame stuff Neptune did, he didn't seem like one to approve something as grotesque as this.

We were dragged inside and through the dark interior. As we finally emerged back into the light, we found ourselves engulfed in the sound of cheers, boos, screams and roars. We had emerged to find ourselves in the main room of a large arena. All the hundreds of monsters from outside had packed themselves into the benches ringing the stadium.

Now that we were inside, I could determine the purpose of the amphitheater. It was an arena for combat. Imagine the Coliseum in all its glory, except the walls are made of bone instead of stone; you'll have a good idea of what we were in. The sand in the middle ground was stained red with blood. There was currently a fight going on between two Giants. I heard Cor gasp as he was dragged in besides me.

"It's a Pankration!" he yelled over the sound of all the monsters in the arena. "Like an ancient wrestling and boxing match!"

Figures he would know about something like this. He fights with a pair of gladiatorial combat gloves, for Jupiter's sake.

"If this is modeled after a typical Greek or Roman match, there should be a leader-" Cor's explanation was cut short by a loud shout from the arena, as one of the giants had successfully pinned the other with his arms behind his back in a move that I knew would be illegal in any wrestling match today. The stadium grew quiet, and all eyes turned towards us.

No, not right at us. **Above **us.

The three of us turned around and looked up. There, in a spectator's box fit for an Emperor, a giant lounged on a couch.

Giant doesn't really describe him well enough. This guy was **huge. **He looked about fifteen or twenty feet tall and about that wide as well. He was covered in swirling blue tattoos, but the skin underneath was dark, like he'd never been out of the sun. He was built like a brick wall, with muscles protruding from everywhere. I could tell, because the only clothing he wore was a loincloth, you know, around his loins. Yuk. Imagine a sumo wrestler with more muscle and three times the size.

Don't imagine too hard.

With all eyes on him, the giant lazily raised one hand, paused, and then gave a thumbs down at the arena. As the crowd roared approval, the dominant giant in the arena twisted the other giant's arms farther in the wrong direction until…

Well, I'm not one to shy away from violence, but even Chris and Cor looked away, so I didn't feel bad about looking down and pretending I couldn't hear the sound of arms slowly ripping off. Eventually the screams of pain cut out, and I looked back up to see the second giant finish dissolving into dust as the victorious giant stood above it, holding the dismembered arms up as spoils of victory.

With the fight over, the giant in the spectator box was again the center of attention. "Attention!" his voice boomed out over the arena. "We have some special guests this day! All welcome our new combatants!"

The crowd again went crazy, and it only took me a second to realize that he was talking about us.

"Heroes of Olympus, Demigods!" the Giant stood and raised his arms up, almost in a salute. "Welcome to my arena! I am Antaeus, Champion of the Pankration, The Scourge of Libya, the favored son of the Earthshaker, Poseidon himself! We always get plenty of entertainment from Demigods! And we'll start…" his finger stabbed downwards and pointed straight at me.

"With you."

* * *

A few notes about the chapter:

A Roman Pace is, very roughly, about 5 feet.

Antaeus is originally from Libya, so I wanted the desert to begin to show that as the heroes traveled to his arena.

For the sake of argument, this is set before Antaeus settled in the Labyrinth.


End file.
